


The Wolf and the Sentinel

by SuperbSoap



Category: Original Work, This Ain't No Hymn
Genre: Cannibalism, Original Characters - Freeform, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9374180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperbSoap/pseuds/SuperbSoap
Summary: Perhaps it isn't the best of ideas to drown yourself in liquor whilst guarding your ship.





	

It's past midnight, the streetlights have long been blown out. The boats along the wharf creak and sway in the warm tides, their sails lowered like ghosts gone to rest. Moonlight gleams across the dark water, promising many sailors an escape, whether they hit the surface alive or dead. The air was warm and sticky, mosquitoes and other insects buzzing in the putrid humidity. The ruckus of drunkards sounds in the nearby taverns, muffled by the densely packed shacks that line the harbor. A low whistling is the only sound to be clearly heard within thirty paces.  
  
  
A single sailor stands as a makeshift sentinel, his faltering steps indicating just how much rum he had consumed. He was being watched, but was too soused for his instincts to pick up the gaze of the stranger. The figure slipped from shadows and - in silent footfalls - approached the sentinel. A gleam of silver and a confused gargle. The man was on the ground, his life force spurting into dark puddles on the cobble with each strained heartbeat.  
  
  
Struggling gasps came from the poor creature's mouth, its eyes wide and panicked as it fought to survive the fatal blow. It remembered where it had came from, where it had been and the things it had seen. Its lovers, its family, its home. All quickly flashing behind its eyes. Almost as quickly as the blade had gleamed, the body went limp. Slender fingers slipped its eyes closed, wiping the crimson from the blade onto the body's garments.  
  
  
The morning after his death, the sentinel was found murdered. Cold body laying outside his loyal ship, missing its legs and internal organs; he had been skinned like an animal at the butchers. He was captain of La Mort, a French cargo ship. Mismatched pupils scanned a newspaper - Gruesome Murder: Fifth in Last Month - the man's fork holding a thin strip of fresh belly fat.


End file.
